By Nature, By Choice
by Salivour
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots based on Tom/Harry. Written for the Stratified Agate Competition.
1. Drabble

The pieces here were written for the Stratified Agate Competition.

**Prompts: **Write a 100-200 word drabble about your pairing (Level One)

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><p>He had been real to Harry before, in the diary. The last dregs of life wasted from Ginevra Weasley. He wanted to know the other – was it camaraderie? Love at first sight? (Tom would have called him a fool for that.) Or did they know, then, about their connection?<p>

There was a spark of _something_ at least. Something that ignited the dark part of his mind of curiosity, dark glory and purpose. Harry was drawn in by Tom, inexplicably pulled. Things change from their original plans. Tom isn't Voldemort to Harry. Harry has promised to visit his new friend often. And yes, he will keep the diary close. He's too young to realise. (But Tom is so nice, and he does look nice as well.) Harry blushes.

Slytherin by nature. Gryffindor by choice. It wasn't that hard, really. Still the same. He just made a different choice. Another rabbit hole to fall in, really, where Tom could lead them to safety, or something else. An obsession, a possession, a – a friend? Something more?

But the spark of something that neither could name burned between them.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for reading! More bits and pieces to come from Harry/Tom :D


	2. Childhood

**Prompt: **Write about a childhood moment of one member of your pairing.

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><p>Tom was, technically, almost seventy years old. But, he was sixteen. He felt sixteen, with a long memory of the diary; the wait and the years of isolation. The Chamber felt familiar, now. Although, in a way, it had always felt familiar from the moment he had first entered into the Chamber. The sheer excitement of finally, finally knowing where the entrance was. It was in the girl's bathroom on the second floor, of all places. Between the original entrance in the office of Salazar Slytherin himself, and the introduction of plumbing, and in the ever-changing Hogwarts, the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets had shifted.<p>

His only chance would be at night, during his prefect rounds. The school was quiet then and there was much less chance of anyone seeing him and questioning his motives. He barely slept in the few hours he had before his rounds began, almost drunk on the feeling of euphoria. He would enter the Chamber of his ancestors that night and the noble work of Salazar Slytherin would continue, purging the school of all its muggleborns. Tom lay in his emerald four-poster bed, eyes wide and an almost manic smile playing across his face as he stared up at the stone ceiling of the dorm. It would be so, so soon and he would take control of Slytherin's famed monster as was his right.

He almost walked too quickly, heading for the Chamber. It was an odd slip of his usual decorum and careful control. But, no matter, he was not seen nor heard in the quiet halls of the castle. He reached the sink with the tiny snake engraved into the faucet in the bathroom. He sucked in a breath, closed his eyes and steadied himself. This had to be the place. The place that had been his goal for the past five years, and now, he was finally standing at its entrance. He ran one long, pale finger over the snake and whispered in Parseltongue.

_"Open."_

He felt a shudder of excitement go through him and he heard the pipes and stones begin to shift. He waited with bated breath as the entire sink began to disappear into the floor, leaving a gaping black tunnel revealed behind where the sink had been. Tom crouched on the floor, and absently ignited the tip of his wand in a blazing white light. He aimed the light down the tunnel to see what was beyond the blackness. The pipe was large enough for him to slide down into, curving away downwards. The only chance to see what was in the chamber would be to plunge into the pipe. He had not come this far to be turned back now. A scowl set onto his face, he carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the pipe and with sudden force, pushed himself off and into the abyss.

The pipe twisted and turned this way and that, smaller pipes branching off in every direction, lit up in the darkness by his wand. The stone walls of the pipe were covered in slime that sped him along the pipe. There had to be a more dignified way of reaching the Chamber. But he had found at least one entrance now and the next task would begin. Finding alternative entrances would hardly matter nearly as much. The pipe suddenly leveled out, slowing him slightly as gravity no longer was dragging him down. Tom was flung out of the pipe and onto the wet floor of another tunnel, this one much larger, a huge stone pipe that he could easily stand up it, the floor covered with dirt and rock. He picked himself up off of the wet ground and brushed himself off in disgust.

He walked carefully forwards, the slapping footsteps echoing off the walls. His wand only lit up a small part of the tunnel that disappeared into darkness beyond the white light of his wand. He walked on, now and again kicking at the small bones that littered the floor. At least it seemed that some monster lived here, or had once lived here. The tunnel went on and on, winding this way and that. There was a hunger in Tom's eyes as he approached every closer to where the famed Chamber of Secrets was. And finally, the tunnel ended. A solid stone wall loomed out of the darkness, two entwined serpents carved onto its face, emerald eyes glinting in the light of his wand. He considered the serpents for a moment, anticipating the moment that the Chamber would open at his word and he would claim his right as the Heir of Slytherin.

_"Open,"_ he said in Parseltongue.

The serpents shifted from their places on the wall, sliding to either side and the wall cracked down the middle and slowly dragged apart revealing the Chamber within.

The Chamber was a huge, long room with pillars, covered with carved serpents, ran down either side of the chamber, going so far up to the ceiling that the light of Tom's wand could not reach their tops. His footsteps echoed of the wet tiled floor, as he walked into the Chamber. His back was straight and his normally handsome face almost looked bestial, curled into a smile of anticipation that was really a snarl and eyes that promised pain.

A massive statue slowly appeared out of the darkness, almost as tall as the Chamber was. The likeness of Salazar Slytherin peered over the Chamber; hair flying behind is ancient face, his long robes of stone falling to the ground. Tom looked up at the statue of Slytherin for a moment, before repeating the words that his pain staking research had told him to say.

_"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."_

A loud crunch echoed through the Chamber as the mouth of Slytherin began to open to form a gaping hole. He could hear something moving inside the statue, sliding through its bowels to emerge from its mouth. A deep hiss echoed into the Chamber as the head of a massive, bright green Basilisk emerged into the mouth, its outline barely visible.

_"You are the Heir of Salazar Slytherin?"_ it asked.

_"Yes,"_ Tom replied, _"You will hunt again."_

The basilisk emerged from the mouth, yellow eyes settling on Tom. He could be himself here. There was no pretence, he did not have to play for the professors or students. He could complete the goal of purging the school completely of those who were unworthy to study magic. The basilisk hit the ground with a resounding thunk and he walked over to place a hand on its cheek.

This was his home in Hogwarts, where he had first known true freedom.

The basilisk claimed its first victim that night.


	3. Jealousy

Tom paced in the Chamber. Harry had promised him, three years ago to visit him, always. Had promised to keep the diary close, to treat it as the precious, precious object it was and to write in it every day. But now, _now_ he was wandering off with some Ravenclaw girl. Tom snarled in anger, the animalistic noise echoing around the Chamber. Harry had absolutely no right to just leave him. Had he not guided the boy for three years? Was his advice not always correct? There was no room for mistakes in his carefully thought-out schemes.

He liked the boy, enough to keep him around, certainly. To enjoy speaking to him each night – when Harry wasn't _distracted_ – and to protect him, hold him. A desire he had never felt about another person. But it was always Harry would who be able to walk the world freely, despite his complaints. The sixteen year old version of a Dark Lord and a horcrux to boot hardly had that luxury. It could be years before he could rejoin his greater self and walk freely again. To place himself – a piece of his own soul – in danger was completely out of the question.

But Harry was slipping from his grasp, their fractured, careful relationship tearing at seams. The boy gave his excuses. People expected him to date, people were becoming suspicious if he went to the Chamber too much or spent too much time cooped up to write in the diary, and couldn't Tom understand he wanted some freedom. The magic cackled in the air around Tom as he thought of Harry's pathetic excuses. He had no belief in love, did not even think that he could feel it either way. He was possessive of Harry, almost obsessed over him, and Harry had once softly whispered the word. But none of it mattered. Harry was leaving him, his own damn mistake for ever allowing Harry to leave.

And Harry didn't even have the guts to tell him – even through the diary – that he loved that girl. He was leaving Tom and for who? Some girl with no power. She was plain, ordinary and could hardly carry a decent conversation without making a fool of herself. How dare she even try to take the place with Harry that was rightfully Tom's?

He unleashed some of the pent-up magic around him as a vicious Blasting Hex at the wall. The next time Harry finally bothered to show his face in the Chamber again, he would tie him down and demand that he never see that girl again. He would be with Tom, and no one else.


	4. Fluff

Tom leant over Harry, wearing a bemused expression as he watched Harry sleep. Harry was a joy to watch; curled up, hands tucked together and his hair splayed over the sheets. When he woke, it would be all puffed up on one side. His feet were twisted in the sheets, something Tom found funny. Harry hated his feet being exposed and always took special care to ensure there were no annoying folds in his sheet. But Tom's favourite part of Harry sleeping was the little noises he would make. The small whimpers, mutters and occasional discernible word were simply adorable.

Tom curled up next to Harry, on the bed that was theirs in the chamber. He gently brushed Harry's hair away for his face, pressing closer to him to gently caress his face. He laced his hands through the hair and slid his fingers over Harry's features, before eventually running over his slightly parted lips. Tom leant forward, kissing Harry on the nose, it twitching. Tom smirked and continued in his task of waking his Harry up, kissing his nose, and along the jaw to reach his lips.

Harry's eyes cracked open when Tom captured his lips in a first, chaste kiss. Harry orientated himself, hands finding their way into Tom's hair and giving him a slow, bleary smile. Their arms wrapped around each other, chests pressed together as they kissed, lips locking together, running over one another.

"Good morning, Harry," murmured Tom.

Harry buried his face in the crack between the pillow and Tom, grumbling. He had no wish to leave Tom for another day.

Tom squeezed Harry, nudging him with his chin. "Come on."

Harry frowned at him, brow furrowing and nose scrunching. "Fine…" he whined.

Tom smiled, kissing his soul once more before they separated until nightfall.


	5. Breaking Up

Harry stood awkwardly in the entranceway, shifting his feet from side to side looking as though he didn't want to be there. Tom reached out a hand to beckon his forward, wanting his soul close as always. But Harry took a hurried step backwards, biting his lip and his eyes darted around the chamber, avoiding looking where Tom was.

"Tom I-" he faltered, barely looking at Tom.

"What troubles you, my soul?"

Harry closed his eyes, forehead furrowed with worry as he finally, unwillingly, averted his gaze from the chamber to look at Tom. His eyes were red and puffy as he drew a hand across them.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

"For what?" Tom frowned at Harry's antics. They had such limited time, so why was Harry wasting it? He should know they wouldn't have long and not bother with such things. He would certainly not leave him for anything.

"I can't do this anymore. The sneaking to see you, the constant lies of where I've been. I've got my OWLs coming up. I want to live without –" he broke off with a choke. "Without having this stress. I just can't. I can't."

Tom reached where Harry stood. "You don't have to sacrifice your schooling. I understand." He tried to cup Harry's face in his hands to kiss him, but Harry pulled away for the first time.

"No." Harry shook his head, "It's not just that. It's everything. You don't seem to care enough to even try and understand."

"You'll stay. You'll come back."

"That's what I mean," Harry sounded defeated. "I tried already. I'"

Harry leant forward to place a gentle kiss on Tom's cheek.

"Goodbye."


End file.
